


Edge of Desire

by chll51



Series: in another life, you'd be mine [7]
Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M, Fits somewhere during their college years, Not Canon Compliant, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:50:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chll51/pseuds/chll51
Summary: There's a moment.





	1. Chapter 1

_So it goes without saying that I'm hooked on you_   
_And by now I'm out of my mind with this self-abuse_   
_\- More of You_

 

 

There’s a moment. Every great love story has at least one: a brief realization that later leads to something else, and this is theirs. A slight grazing of the elbow, a brief skin on skin, nerves firing contact that undoubtedly means more to him than her; but regardless of how she feels, he couldn’t stop thinking or stop wondering where this would all lead.

Then about a week later, they kiss. His mind’s screaming that this is wrong. It’s Blair. It’s him; and together, they’re sort of imperfect, mismatched and altogether don’t belong but she was crying ( _from what else?_ ) while he was stammering on, trying to cheer her up. When he didn’t know what else to do, he kissed her ( _and partly because he’s been staring at her lips for quite awhile now_ ).

She doesn’t pull away or slaps him. When they break apart, her fingers trace over her lips, looking like she’s been struck by lightning. He bows his head in shame ( _he always does when he crosses some sort of line he’s not supposed to_ ) and instead of scolding, cursing, or hitting, she cups his face and surprises him with a couple of kisses of her own. He thinks that they must be trapped in some sort of alternate universe because there’s no way in hell that Blair Waldorf would play kissing games with Lonely Boy from Brooklyn.

They don’t speak afterward and decide to stay away from each other for a while to sort out the mess. It doesn’t last long because shit hits the fan a week later. He finds himself sitting beside her on a rooftop of some abandoned warehouse. Instead of talking, their lips land on each other because they realize that they’d rather numb the pain than talk it out. Kissing then leads to something else ( _it always does_ ), not definitive though because they both decide that this is only going to be temporary; nothing more than what it is, which in his opinion, is friends with benefits but they’re not friends so whatever. He doesn’t want to be alone ( _Serena and him are off again after they were on again_ ) and neither does she ( _Chuck’s Chuck_ ); and rather than wallowing in their own self-pity and misery, they spend it fucking away the pain.

Weeks turn into months. In the end, someone always gets hurt, and it turns out to be him. Big shocker there.

It’s the night of their graduation party, and they’re standing on the rooftop of the Chuck’s Empire, overlooking the entire city. They always have a thing with rooftops. He’s drunk-ish, and she’s looking lovely. He couldn’t help himself so he says the first thing that pops into his head. "I think I'm falling for you."

The colors drain from her face, and it almost makes him want to stop talking though he doesn’t. He supposes that he loves heartbreak as much as Blair loves her Audrey’s reveries. "I know that we decided in the beginning that this," he then points at her then back at himself while his vision slowly blurs, “Wasn't— uh—going to be anything more than what it is and that we aren't going to be anything more than what we are but—" He stops because his throat has closes up, and his head has started spinning. He swears there’s a drop of his blood on the floor, but it's probably just his imagination.

"No, Humphrey." She locks eyes with him, regretful and all, but the only thing he can think of is how beautiful she is while he's trying to gasp for air. He wonders why this hurts more the second time around, even though it's supposed to be less than what he had the first time with the blonde of his dream. "I'm sorry."

When he gathers enough courage to look at her, really look at her, he finally sees what he's been blinded by hope this whole time: a girl who's afraid falling again, of handing out her heart to another guy who might just smash it to pieces like the last one; so she closes up, builds walls and put up defenses. He was a fool to think otherwise. Then she looks away, ashamed for having to break his heart. "I'm sorry." She repeats again and again, like saying it with more conviction than the last would actually stop the bleeding and the hurting.

He brings a hand to his mouth to suppress the urge of hunching over and throwing up. His breathing turns shallow before he heads for the door to get away from Blair Waldorf and the city full of memories with her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Just when I had you off my head_  
_Your voice comes thrashing wildly through my quiet bed_   
_\- All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye_

 

 

 

He still dreams of her  and imagines what it’d be like if they’d worked out, but he’s allowed himself to move on, to let the scars fades and to start breathing on his own again five painful years later. That is until he receives the only note he has ever gotten from Blair Waldorf and all sorts of memories start reeling in his mind; none that he’s too keen about. The note turns out to be an invitation to Eleanor Waldorf's wake, who died because of cancer. He meant to reach out and offer his condolences, perhaps through a note or a bouquet of flowers rather than attending. As he holds the invitation tightly in the palm of his hand, he bites his lips and fights against the thought of going. Then he makes the mistake of calling his dad, who convinced him to be the family's representative because it seems Lily and him have some business to attend to and can't make it back on time.

Dan tries to suggest everyone he knew but to no avail. Serena's currently doing a show in Milan. Eric is somewhere in South America for Habitat for Humanity. Jenny's off in Paris, doing her fashion thing and Nate followed her because he couldn't bear to be apart. Dan thinks it's because he's afraid that Jenny might fall for some male model or something but Nate lists it off as something else. Then he makes another fatal mistake and asks about Chuck that abruptly ends the conversation, with him going in their place.

"I'm going to miss you."

Dan pulls himself away from his thoughts and remembers that he hasn't even stepped on the plane yet. Instead, he is standing beside his girlfriend of three years, Emily. They began dating around the time Blair got back together with Chuck and move in together 2 years ago, where coincidentally 2 days later, he heard that Blair has become engaged to Chuck. He just chalked them up as consecutive events that had no relation to one another at all. "Me too," says Dan though he feels like a liar because his thoughts were on a different brunette, and it turns his stomach for being such an ass.

She smiles and embraces him tightly. "Call me once you land."

He nods in response and makes a mental note of calling. "I'm only going to be gone for two days so don't worry too much," adds Dan softly after they pull away. He has worked it out weeks ago where he'd go and pay his respects then fly back the next day or so. Quickly in and quickly out. No need to rehash any messy past.

Then Emily tip-toes and brushes her lips softly against his. There are no butterflies in his stomach, no perspiration of the hands and no pulsing of the heart but it's comfortable. They're comfortable and that's enough for him. She then shrinks back into her place and blushes furiously; it's a reaction that's rarely exhibited by the girls from his past. He gives her shoulder a quick squeeze before checking in at the gate. Waving one last time, he hurries into the plane and to his seat. He chucks down two sleeping pills to calm his nerves and drift off to sleep; though to be perfectly frank, it's not the nerves that are making him anxious and sweaty and while he's well aware of this fact, he'd rather take the lie over the truth any day of the week.

Five and a half hours later, his head hurts like someone's pounding on it with a frying pan. Holding a hand to his temple, he looks up to see people grabbing their carry-on out of the luggage compartment. He reaches over his head and drags his luggage out into the checkout area. After checkout, he rushes into the bathroom, changes into his black tux, then out to the street to hail a taxi; an act that turns out to be harder than he remembers. Once he arrives, the place is more crowded than he anticipates but he's glad. He can now effortlessly slip in and out without anyone’s notice. He scans the room to see if he recognizes anyone but none that he could recall, not even Cyrus; then he faintly recalls his dad mentioning that Cyrus got stuck on a business trip until after the funeral. Blair would have to hold down the fort by herself. His wish to remain anonymous is also ruined by Dorota calling out his name from behind while he's weaving from corners to corners.

He quickly flashes a friendly smile. "Hey." His greeting is awkward and somewhat forced, more so than he meant to and he hopes that she didn't notice. “Dorota.”

She looks as if she's seen a ghost instead, not that he blames her much. Since his job occupies most of his time, he rarely has time to come back. "Mr. Humphrey," Dorota exchanges with a simple glance, running her eyes up and down. "You seem well. You got a tan."

"Yeah—well Los Angeles tends to do that, you know, with all that sun and everything. You look well, too. Glowing, actually. How's life treating you? Good?" He rambles on. "I'm sorry. That's a stupid question."

She smiles and he sees aging lines merging around the corners of her mouth, reminding him that it really has been five years. "It's been _hectic_." She then leaves it at that. "Would you care for a drink?" She dangles a glass of Chardonnay in front of him. "To ease your nerves." She gives him a look that tells him she knows more than she's letting on.

"O-kay?" replies Dan as he takes the glass from her. "Thanks."

She nods and looks around the room before resting her eyes on him once more. "It's nice to see you again Mr. Humphrey. I'm sure Ms. Blair would love to see you as well. She's just down the hall so if you have time, stop by." She takes her leave without waiting for his response and wanders back to the guests.

He stands there for another second or two, letting her words simmer in his mind. Then he shakes his head and decides that he'd rather not entangled in another UES affair. He had enough of those when he ended up with a S and a B scar somewhere on his heart. While rummaging through the room in search of his seat, he unintentionally finds a familiar pair of brown. The shock renders him speechless, though he knew somewhere deep down that he'd run into her, seeing as how this is an event hosted by her; but knowing it and actually having it occurred are two very different thing.

Stunned silence hangs weakly in the air as she, dresses in an elegant black dress makes her way through the noisy crowd, shaking every hand along the way though she never takes her eyes off of him. A slight reversal to their role in the past.

His fingers involuntarily clench onto the wine glass a bit tighter than he meant to, which is something that has becoming a habit of his these days, like thinking about her more than he meant to, dreaming about her more than he meant to or missing her more than he meant to.

"Daniel."

He swears he could feel his heart bursting and his nerves firing into oblivion because no one really calls him by that name anymore and when they do, it just doesn't sound as familiar to him as it does when it falls from her lips. "Blair." He could only muster a weak greeting of her name before staring like an idiot because he doesn't know what to say in front of her other than mundane greetings that he often tosses to acquaintances, whom he hasn't seen in years; and he feels that she deserves something better than _it's nice to see you_  or _how have you been_.

She bites her lips and butterflies form in the pit of his stomach. "It's been awhile."

He nods, and swallows hard. "Yes, it has."

"I didn't expect to see you," she states as a matter-of-fact while playing with her fingers near the hem of her dress. “Your father sent his regards in place of their attendance. I thought that the Humphrey-Van-der-Woodsen clan would be absent from today’s event.”

_You and me both_ , he wants to say but he mutters a quiet _I'm sorry about your mother_ instead. It sounds so insincere and useless that he wouldn't be surprised if she would scowl rather than showing him that sad look on her face.

"Thanks," she weakly replies and tries to press a smile on her lips but fails miserably. They stay quiet, and unsure, like they're walking on egg shells. Then she bids him goodbye because neither could stand the deafening silence passing through their parted lips any longer; and it's only right that she should be the first to go and he's the one that's left to watch her back.

He wonders how is it that he has such a hard time speaking in front of Blair Waldorf even though so much time has already passed. Thankfully the thought doesn't last long as she takes center stage behind the podium that has pictures of a smiling Eleanor in the background. Her lips quiver at first as she delivers an emotional, yet composed speech about her mother and the life she led. She maintains her calm and doesn't shed even a single tear or let her facade slips throughout the wake before sending each guests on their way in the end.

He would have said goodbye but he figures that it's more trouble than it's worth because already, he's started falling back into the pattern of observing her and the world that she lives in while the feeling of being small and insignificant wash through him like a hangover of a day after; so he slips out among the crowd and catches a taxi back to Brooklyn where he belongs.

Once he arrives at the loft, he throws his suitcase on the floor and undoes his tie. His heart's still pulsing; his forehead's begun to break out in sweats. He's suffocating and wanting to leave, except he can't; so he mumbles to himself about how it'd just a couple more hours until he flies back. It's pathetic, he knows, but he's afraid that if he doesn't, something might hold him from leaving. He then takes out his phone and checks for any missed call, specifically from his publisher and the school he's teaching at. "Damn it." He curses with a slap to his own forehead when he saw a missed call from Emily instead; but rather than calling back, he just closes the phone and prefers to call her tomorrow before he leaves because he's not in his right state of mind now; and she'd find out from his voice if he calls and that might just open a whole new can of worms that he's not ready to deal with.

He doesn't know how the hours passed by so quickly, especially since he didn't do anything except pacing around the room with a can of coke in hand and unloading his clothes, but by the time he checks his watch, the hands pointed to ten o'clock. Just as he's getting ready for bed, a knocks suddenly comes on his door; his brows automatically knit together, wondering who it could be. Opening the door slowly, "Blair " His mouth turns dry at the sight of her back, as if she's contemplating whether or not she should knock on the door. He smiles, knowing that she won't see it. Quietly he opens the door halfway then slants his body against it. Crossing his arms across his chest, "Are you going to stand there forever?"

She quickly swings around with a startled gasp. "Humphrey." Her cheeks flush pink with a red undertone as she rests her arms in front of her, intertwining her fingers together. The bun she wore earlier has loosened as the curls bounces and frames her face. "I—I—" she stutters; he likes to think that she's gotten that from him but that might be too presumptuous of him to think so. "I don't know why I'm here."

He tilts his head to the side. "That's what got us into trouble the first time around."

She looks away then flashes him a small smile. "I know."

He then inhales deeply, knowing that he will regret this tomorrow. "Want to come in?"


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm a little far from the shore and I'm afraid of sinking_  
_You're the only one who knows me and who doesn't ignore_  
_That my soul is weeping_   
_-Just Feel Better_

 

 

 

Somewhere between her entering and offering her a drink, they end up in his room. She's strolling around, sipping, and chirping about their time spent here and he's listening attentively, trying to decipher what the hell is going through her mind because she's acting way too normal for someone who has just lost her mom. He's trying to read her face, her body movements and her voice while locking gaze with her. It almost feels like a game of tag, but he knows better. Fast forward to a few minutes later and she accidentally stumbles on a sharp corner of the bed then ends up fumbling into it. Her body turns to face him and her arms involuntarily stretch out, trying to grab a hold of something to break her fall and they find comfort in his. She ends up pulling them both down onto the bed with her landing on top of him.

Of course, she would end up on top because that's the way God has dictated it to be.

"Sorry…" she giggles, which scares him because she doesn't giggle. She might laugh, smirk, taunt and sneer but Blair Waldorf hardly ever giggles. Her head tosses back; her hair falls all over the place and she just giggles. "My apology—" she stops when she realizes how close their bodies are to one another; her cheeks turn a sudden shade of pink. The last time they were in this position, they both ended up in a very compromising position the morning after.

"As much as I love staying in this position, with you on top and resume our conversation about the good old times, and whatnot but uh—do you think you can—oh I don't know—move off of me a bit?" Dan asks, clearing his throat before pushing his body upward then gets rejected by her gentle push, thrusting him back onto the bed. She weaves her fingers with his and pins him down with newfound strength. "Blair—" he stutters with a dumb look on his face when he sees the close proximity of his face to hers. His breathing slows because he has very strict rules about touching Blair Waldorf; and when their body presses together like this, the thought of kissing her crosses his mind more than he wanted it to.

She looks to be enjoying this way too much. "I'm not going to hurt you, Humphrey," Blair says but the gleam in her eyes tells him that he should know better than to let his guard down.

"Blair—look, this—you—I am not—this" He pauses, licking his broken lips. "I mean, this is crazy. You're just—"

Her mouth catches him off guard. Her eyes seal shut while his open wide as he fights the urge to respond, even if she does bite his lips teasingly. Wriggling away from her grasp, he latches both hands onto her should and gently pushes her back. "Whoa—Blair—what are you doing?" asks Dan, panicky. "We've tried this, and you love Chuck, remember?"

She looks hurt and he almost regrets doing so. Then without as much as a reply, she removes herself from him, grabs her jacket and briskly exits the room.

"Blair, where are you going?" he calls while trailing behind.

She turns back; lips quivering; eyes brimming with pile of unshed tear, looking like a kid that has lost her favorite toy, far worse than that time he found her sitting out in the hall after finding out her mother didn't want her. "It's just a kiss, Humphrey," she says quietly. "Not a promise of eternal love."

A kiss with Blair Waldorf is never just that, he thinks as he stares her. "You're engaged, and I have a girlfriend." By the expression on her face, it hardly seems like his words have any effect at all. "Am I speaking in tongue?"

She scoffs. "What's your point, Humphrey?"

Running his fingers through his hair, he paces back and forth with his hand on his mouth. "With us, it's never a kiss for me." says Dan after awhile. "You know that and trying to ignore it won't make it go away."

"I'm Blair Waldorf, Humphrey," she says, as if that would explain everything about her behavior.

"What's going on, Blair?" He sighs. "Talk to me. I'm here for you."

"Until when, Humphrey? When the fucking sun rise? Do I even get a goodbye this time?"

Her words feel like a slap across the face that almost sends him stumbling backward. "We're not talking about us, Blair. We're talking about you. Stop deflecting."

"You don't get to choose the topic, Humphrey," she bites back sharply. "You also don't get to act chummy with me when you're the one that—"

"What the hell did you expect me to do? Stay here and watch your romance unfold with Chuck Bass?"

"No, I expected a decent goodbye, not an act of a lover scorned because if I knew—" her voice cracks, "I would have done something more."

It's not him she's talking about. He knows, because she's looking right through him even though her eyes are glued to his; but that doesn't make his old wounds ache any less. "It'd not changed a damn thing, Blair."

And that's when she finally lost it. "Yes it would. I'd have said that you're a horrible person that you deserved everything you got—" She bursts into tears unexpectedly. Hands covering her face, she opens the gates and let the tears break free. "I'd have said that none of that mattered because I'd still love you. I'd still miss you and that I'd do anything to let you have more time with me; because it hurts to breath; it's even harder to live knowing that I didn't get a chance to say any of this to you because of my stupid pride of appearing weak."

Then she tears down her wall and sobs; body trembling and all as she tries to regain her control; and it's déjà vu, like he's seeing her again for the first time without the expensive clothes, the sharp tongue and the brave exterior she puts out and sees that regardless of the opinions he has of Blair, she's still just a girl whose goal in life was for her mother to accept and love her. "She's fucking dead, Dan. My mother, the woman who made my childhood a living hell, the one who shouldn't even be called a mother because she never acted like one, is dead. She was supposed to be my warning sign; my fucking red light but she's gone and I'm here. I'm here and I don't know—" Her voice softens as she peers up at him, silently screaming for a helping hand. "I don't know how to make this pain stop."

Her eyes beg him to do something, anything, so he does the first thing that came to his mind. He brings his hands up to her cheeks and slides his calloused fingers across her smooth complexion. She holds her breath when his thumb finds its way across her lips, tracing it back and forth, tingling her nerves. He then dives his fingers underneath her curls and gently strokes behind her ear; he leans her closer and softly presses a kiss to her forehead. "It'll be okay."

She runs her hand up his chest; eyes lock with his and a tear gently glides down her cheek; her breathing turns haggard as she mumbles, "How can you be so sure?"

Then his lips trail over her temple, her cheeks then down to both of the corners of her mouth. She stiffens then softens as she opens her mouth for him to enter. She tastes of bittersweet and regret. He takes her wandering hand in his when they find their way to the zipper of his pants. "We can't."

She looks lost and confused as she asks, "Why?"

"Because we'll both regret this in morning. You know it and I know it; so let's stop this before it goes any further," he responds and backs away two steps, "You're in a vulnerable state right now and the person who you should kiss or do anything of this with is not here; and if I take advantage of that, I will never forgive myself."

"You're worried about Chuck finding out about us?"

"No, I'm worried about you," says Dan through gritted teeth, frustrated because Blair Waldorf's getting under his skin again, frustrated because he's remembering why he loved her in the first place, frustrated because he still wants her but she could never be his and most of all, frustrated at himself for not being able to control his overflowing emotion and ended up kissing her.

"Chuck's gone."

"What?"

"He left me, Humphrey,” she answers with a wry laugh. "Packed up all his stuff, said he couldn't do it anymore and left. I thought it was going to be like every other times but it's not; two months hasve passed and I haven't heard from him. No one has, so go ahead and say you're right."

And that's when everything clicks, why his dad hang up so quickly and why no one ever talks about Chuck. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

She looks like she's shooting darts from her eyes. "Why would you? You don't live here anymore, remember?" It's as if she's directing her hate at him, for seeing her this way and for making her look so pitiful; and she does what Blair Waldorf does best when someone manages to poke through her wall, she puts the blame on them and build an even tougher defense so that it'd not be torn down again. "And why does it always have to be you, Humphrey? Damn it. It's entirely your damn fault."

He laughs because she went from seductive, sad, needy to angry in 30 minutes flat. That has got to be a record of some sort. "Of course I'm the one to blame."

Her face twists in a displeased manner. "I'm glad you can still find humor in all this because if I didn't tell you before, I really hate you, Humphrey."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. "What else is new?"

She delivers a punch to his arm.

"What the hell was that for?"

"For getting your Brooklyn smell on me."

"Whatever, Waldorf." With a wide grin, he holds out his hand. "So want to give me your jacket and stay for the night, or would you like to catch a taxi back to your place?"

As if he really has to ask.


	4. Chapter 4

_No need to tell me_  
_I know that there’s another little tear in my eye_  
_I’m quite aware_  
_\- Just Another Little Hole_

 

 

When she nudges her body closer to his—it’s a habit of hers to dig for a warmth body—he has half a mind to jump off the bed because it’s uncomfortable; and he hasn’t felt this awkward, this nervous, and this sickening of the stomach akin to riding a roller coaster in years and he knows she shouldn’t be the one that makes him ache like this but he can neither help nor control it. He was never really good at that. If he was, he’d not have dipped his toes in dating UES socialites in the first place; and he’s afraid that he might just misses this once he leaves the morning so he tries his damnest to slides his body away, making his arms the only thing that come into contact with her skin but it’s hard since he’s already used to her scent, her soft skin and her small frame that melts perfectly into his.

As much as it pains him to resort to such as bastardly trick, he begins to think about Emily, the girl that is supposed to be the next big love of his life. In many ways, he supposes he’s kind of like Blair; he wants some sort of happily ever even though the skeptic in him believes otherwise ( _he wants to be proven wrong_ ); and when he met Emily through serendipitous incidents, like frequenting at the same coffee shop, working in the same school or being housed in the same apartment complex, he so badly wants to believe that she’s it, that she’s the one; and when she asked the most ridiculous question of whether or not birds fly at night, because she was driving on a highway at 11pm and got pooped on, to break the ice before introducing herself with a self-deprecating smile, he has to believe in the possibility.

At first glance, Blair and Emily are both similar ( _and he refuses to think that is the reason why he fell for Emily in the first place_ ). Both are slim with brown curls and infectious laughs. They’re confident, very vocal in what they hold true and are both driven once they have a goal in mind, not mention they’re both fun, spontaneous, sexy and full of surprises; but Blair’s eyes carry secrets, whereas Emily’s echo honesty and accessibility. She puts her heart on the table and holds nothing back and it makes him think that it’d be nice to finally have a healthy, stable relationship where there are no games, no hidden agendas and no emotional abuse. Oh, he could hear his inner Blair smirking now.

 _Face it Humphrey, she’ll never be me_.

Maybe that’s okay; because if Dan lies to himself enough, he can pretend that holding Blair doesn’t hurt, that it doesn’t make his heart bleed with each, painstakingly long minute that he’s spent watching the clock and that it doesn’t remind him how easily it is to recall every moment his fingers have come into contact with her skin and have fireworks explode in his mind each times. Yeah, he could lie to himself for a few more years, until he grows out of this phase, this falling for damsels in distress syndrome he seems to have, or until she marries Chuck Bass, whichever comes first ( _his money’s on Blair_ ). Sighing, he pretends to close his eyes for a brief second before they meet with the morning lights, or the alarm he sets on his phone.

When it finally goes off, he tiptoes off the bed, after successfully prying her head from his numbed arm. He gathers his stuff quietly ( _disappearing without a trace is something he’s good at)_ and looks over at Blair’s sleeping body. Logically, he knows that he should wake her up and say something because it’s only right; because they both deserve a proper farewell of some sort, more him than her, but he’s never really good at goodbyes and dealing with their after-effects so he just wanders out of the apartment and catches a taxi to the airport instead. He figures, she won’t misses him much and knowing that, somehow breaks his heart a little bit more than it should.

“Dan?”

He stops because it’s a voice that he should know but he’s still stuck on yesterday’s time and someone else that when he turns around, it surprises him enough to see an unfamiliar figure looking back with large sunglasses and dark brown hair. He squints, trying to figure out but in the end, he only manages a weak reply, “Erm… can I help you?”

She chuckles warmly and lowers her glasses to reveal the pale blue eyes underneath.

“Serena.” He breathes with relief that’s laced with a tinge of disappointment; for what reason, he’d rather not know. “What are you doing here?”

Rather than answering, she signals him over to an emptied area. “Let’s catch up. You have time, right?”

He checks his phone and nods. “One more hour until check in so why not?” She then laughs, pulling him by the arm. Dan feels like a giddy 16 year old that used to worship the grounds she walked on. He doesn’t love her anymore. He knows that, but being closed to her makes him feel like he does. “I didn’t know you were coming in today,” he says after they both take their seat. “And judging by the disguise, I’m guessing you didn’t plan this either?”

She grins; his heart melts. “My publicist doesn’t know I left. Well—she does now—but anyway, I don’t want them to find me yet so, this is the best I can come up with.”

He laughs because only in her world, are things ever this simple; like a simple disguise could really hide who she really is. “You do know that the moment you step into the UES, a GG blast will hit the airwaves, right?”

She seems unfazed as she answers, “Que sera, sera,” that entices another laugh from him. “I take it that you’re in a hurry of some sort?”

“I still have some work left,” he answers. It sounds rehearsed and it’s. He really doesn’t want to dig deep as to why he always run away from this place. “You know me. I can’t stay still or else I’d go insane.”

She chuckles. “You’re never going to change, are you?”

“Thanks?”

Serena says, “It’s not an insult, Dan," then she pauses to study his face before continues, “And I heard from Rufus that you’re dating now?”

“Oh—you guys discuss my love line across the international line now?”

She then shrugs. “Only when we’re bored enough.”

He tosses his head back and laughs.

“So have you met her parents yet?”

“No.” He states without going into much details that might encourage her to ask for more information. “What about you, Serena? Seeing anyone?”

“Let’s just say I’m more successful in my professional life than my personal life,” she grins, or at least attempted to but there’s a trace of sadness in her voice, maybe regret but he couldn’t be too sure. “I don’t know. I think you were probably my best chance for the happily ever after and look how great that turned out.”

Their eyes lock and he smiles first. “We were great, weren’t we?”

“We were—” there’s that dip in her voice but he thinks he hears wrong “—while it lasted; and maybe if I didn’t have too many secrets and you didn’t have too many doubts, we could have ended up differently; but that’s the thing about first love, right? You dream big, try to see if love can get you through anything and hope to God that it’ll; when it doesn’t, you take what you learn and move onto the next.”

His left brow cocks up. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

She wrinkles her nose with a wide grin. “Does it feel like I am?”

He shakes his head, wanting to take in her words as is rather than what they could be.

“Anyway I should go—” she stands up first then tosses another glance as if there’s still something she wanted to say, “You know what I liked about you, Dan?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Your willingness to take a leap and be patient enough to see it through,” she then flashes another one of those megawatt smiles, “I hope that that part of you hasn’t changed.”

“It hasn’t—”

“That’s good because it’d be a real shame otherwise,” she then presses a platonic kiss to his cheek. “See you at Christmas, Dan.”

Something tells him that she knows without him ever needing to say anything and as he stands, still in a bit of a daze over her words, he wonders why it’s so different; why tragedy works for him and Blair and why comfort works for him and Serena when given his whole history with the two, it should be the opposite.


	5. Chapter 5

_Something's missing_  
_And I don't know how to fix it_  
_Something's missing_  
_And I don't know what it is at all_  
_\- Something's Missing_

 

 

 

He doesn’t understand why but he kisses Emily harder, rougher and needier. Hands roam, like they’re trying to find a home and eyes close, like he’s trying to forget. It’s as if he hasn’t breathed the last 3 weeks and kissing her is the only way he can find his air so he becomes more demanding while she becomes more giving; and it’s fucked up, because he knows that she must have noticed these changes in him but she doesn’t say and instead only smiles when he apologizes after every kiss for the marks he leaves behind; and the more she forgives, the worse he feels.

It’s only two weeks later that he sits Emily down and allows the _I’m sorry but I can’t be with you anymore_  to slip from his lips. He curses because he wanted to start off light before gradually easing her into it; then again, thinking about it makes him realizes how stupid the plan was. When has heartbreak ever been a gradual thing? Still, he bows his head low and doesn’t dare to look at her in the eyes until he finishes the sentence. When he does, he almost wants to hang himself but the more he tries to explain, the less sense he makes so he shuts up altogether.

Between denial and acceptance, she breaks down and pangs of guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. The last thing he wanted is this: her crying and him staring helplessly at the ground. Then she screams and hits his chest a couple of times. They don’t hurt, not more than the pain he feels on the inside. “Why do this in the first place? Why ask me to move in? Why act like you’re so in love when you aren’t?”

He couldn’t offer her any consolation other than the generic, “I thought I could.”

Another tear rolls down.

“I’m sorry.”

She covers her face, recollects herself and asks if it’s because he’s met someone else.

He answers no because it’s the truth. Blair is not someone else and she’s not the reason for their breakup. He just can’t live a lie and pretends for her sake that they’re moving toward to a future together when they aren’t. Dragging this on more than necessary, either because he’s afraid to face the truth or she’s afraid to face what’s been obvious since the beginning would only make them resent one another later on in life; and he has seen enough of that from his parents.

“It’s the girl from your book, isn’t it?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“She’s the reason, isn’t it?”

“No.” And he means it, only she doesn’t look convince, not that he blames her.

“Are you going to her?”

He shakes his head. 

“But you’re still willing to wait?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she worth it?”

Honest to God, he has no idea. All he knows is that he’s still in love with her so he nods and says, “It’s a one sided affair but yeah, she’s worth it.”

“Even if you won’t win her in the end, you’re still willing to wait?”

Rather than answering, he launches into a long monologue about how people strive to live knowing that they’ll die one day or smokers who smoke knowing that cigarettes are harmful to their health. He must sound stupid but in his head, the reasons seem enough.

Then there’s another moment of silence before she sighs. “For your sake, I hope she’s worth it too. I won’t say that I’m happy for you but she’s lucky to have your heart.”

Then she turns and leaves, promising to grab her things later.

He thinks that he must have done something right in the past life to have met someone like her because he expected more though glad he got less. The next few days go by like a dream. Like all things Humphrey, he mopes around the apartment because he doesn’t know what else to do ( _other than the obvious—writing his book—but his mind’s in a jumble so words don’t out right anyway_ ). He thinks about catching a plane and flying back to Manhattan. He thinks about calling Serena and asks her for advice. He thinks about calling Nate because he kind of misses him. He thinks about doing a lot of things, except his legs won’t move and his hands won’t dial. Then a call comes his way from an unknown caller and for reasons unknown, he picks up. “Hello?”

“Dan!” Nate’s cheery voice booms loudly through the phone. “Long time no see!”

“Nate?” He tries to hide his shock but fails miserably. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I heard you went to the funeral—”

“You heard right.”

“I came back the day after you left and I meant to call and say that it’s a shame I missed you.”

His brow rises. “So you call more than a month later to tell me that you’re sorry you’ve missed me?”

Nate then chuckles heartily. “No, man. There’s something else; actually two things.”

“Okay?”

“First, I want to propose to you sister, sometime this year.”

As if hearing the word propose from Nate’s lips didn’t send his heart awry, Jenny’s being the person surely does the trick. “Wait—you, the I-fucking-love-my-bachelor-life-guy, wants to propose to my sister, the-I’m-more-in-love-with-my-fashion-than-any-man-I’ll-ever-meet-sister?”

Nate chuckles and for some reasons, he sounds livelier and just overall, freer than Dan’s heard in years, if that even makes any sense. “Yeah—her.”

He scratches the back of his neck, dumbfounded as to why Nate should even ask for his opinion. “Okay? And you called me because…?”

“I’m afraid—I don’t know if she’ll say yes.”

“You’re afraid?” he laughs because it’s incredibly hard time imagine Nate Archibald being anything less than confident. “You, afraid?”

“Yeah—got a problem with that?”

“No—no, problem, whatsoever,” answers Dan, fumbling. “How can I help?”

“I just wanted to get your blessings seeing as how—”

“Oh right,” Dan nods, recalling how he was less than thrilled about their relationship when they first started dating. “You got my blessings.”

“Good,” his voice increases ten-fold.

“That’s it?”

“Have you talked to Blair?”

His blood runs cold at the mentioning of her name. “No,” he coughs uncomfortably. “Why?”

“I’m just worried about her. Actually, we all are. She has been working like a crazed lunatic; Serena tries to take her out for some fresh air but Blair would rather be at the office and if she keeps going, she might burn herself out.”

He still doesn’t see why Nate’s calling him over that matter. “So why are you asking me?”

“I was wondering if you have called her or she has called you and whatnot—”

“What made you think she’d call me?”

“Oh come on, Dan,” the exasperation behind his voice is evident as he sighs dramatically, “I know about you and Blair.”

“Oh?” His throat closes. “What?”

“Don’t give me that, man. I thought we’re friends.”

“We are.”

“Then let me give you a piece of advice about Blair from someone who used to be her paramore. She might possibly be the most confusing and irritating woman you will ever meet and she’ll send your head spinning if you’re not careful; she’s stubborn as a mule when it comes to relationships and she won’t know when to fold them until it’s too late; and don’t think she doesn’t how she’s. She does. She’s just afraid of taking the leap.”

“I think five years is a long enough time.”

“Like I’ve said, Blair is stubborn and when she’s in love, she gives it wholeheartedly until she’s drained; and with Chuck, it’s the same. First loves, Dan. They’re always hard to let go.”

“I don’t think I can wait for her.” He doesn’t mean it but he says it anyway, thinking he could convince someone else other than himself. “I’m—”

“With someone. Yeah, I know. Thanks for telling me that by the way. All I’m saying is: make sure you don’t regret your choice and trust me when I say I know a little something about regrets. I’m just glad I have a second chance with Jenny and if the girl you’re with is that second chance then I’m all for it.”

He doesn’t tell Nate that he broke up with Emily and that it’s because he’s still in love with Blair because he figures, it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. “Thanks.” Then he bids Nate goodbye with a promise to fly home for Thanksgiving because that’s when Nate's planning to propose and he wants Dan there for support. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the question of how did someone like Nate has a more together life than he does pops up then he mutters a few curses, something along the line of _it's that damn Archibald’s fault._


	6. Chapter 6

_You hold me without touch._  
_You keep me without chains._  
_I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain._  
_\- Gravity_

 

 

 

Dan decides that life’s too short for the what-ifs ( _amazingly it took him five years to figure that out_ ) so he books a ticket after talking with Nate and flies home as soon as he could. He figures that if someone like Nate can take a leap of faith with a sister of his, maybe he should do the same. There are doubts in the back of his mind and possibly heartbreak in waiting but he doesn’t care because he needs to do this. He’s been waiting for this and it’s now or never.

  
“You shouldn’t be here” are the first words Serena says after she opens the door and finds him standing outside. A dark shadows hovers her face as she sighs and looks behind him like she’s anticipating something.

“Wait—what?” He thinks he has heard her wrong. “I thought that this is what you were implying—”

“No, Dan. Never did I imply that you should leave the life you lead, come here, confess and expect a grand finale of an overplayed fairytale in your head,” she says with biting words. She sounds angry and he couldn’t understand why. “Why are you here?”

“To tell—”

“She already knows about your feelings.”

“I just thought—”

She looks annoyed before cutting him off. “What, Dan? That she’ll fall into your arms and you’ll carry her into the sunset? You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“What’s going on, Serena? You’re biting my head off like I’ve accidentally donated one of your Gucci dresses to the Goodwill or something.”

She purses her lips together, contemplating. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Not good enough.”

"It's going to have to be because it's all I've got."

"No," he repeats. "What are you not telling me?"

"You want the truth? It's sad and pathetic that you think this will work. Should we chalk it up as your thousandth tries? Grow up, Dan. Not everyone ends up with the love of their life."

"I just want to see her."

“Blair can’t be won this way, you know that, Dan,” Serena states firmly; hands still keep the door half-way closed. “She might love grand, romantic gestures, but pushing her into a corner will accomplish nothing. I understand that you love her and this is your way of showing her but unless she comes to you, it won’t work.” She then softly touches his cheek. “Go home, Dan. Call up your girlfriend. Say you’ve made a big mistake.”

He says nothing; and Serena knows him well enough to do the same.

Until a car pulls up from behind and Blair’s voice dances its way to his ears.

His heart bathes with joy while Serena looks like she’s about to be sick. When he turns around, he understands why.

 _Chuck_.

Blair freezes, dropping Chuck’s hand from her grasp when she sees him standing there with Serena. “Dan…” she whispers like it’s been so long that he manages a bitter scoff in reply.

“Humphrey.”

He ignores the raspy voice, and looks toward Blair. He feels his heart stops beating again, just for a short while.

When she walks closer, Chuck catches her by the arm and holds her there. She looks back at him, already hesitating. Guilt flushes her cheeks as if she’s committed a heinous crime.

Dan on the other hand feels nothing, just numb and void of emotions.

Her lips quiver then part.

Chuck opens his mouth to speak but she mumbles a few incoherent words then he takes his leave.

He thought he heard Chuck saying _sorry_  when he walks by but he couldn’t be sure because really, he’s not in his right mind right now.

She inhales sharply and reaches for his hand.

He pulls away and says grudgingly, “God, I’m such a fucking an idiot.”

The tears brim her eyes and he swears that she said something else but he couldn’t hear; and frankly, he really doesn’t want to hear. “It’s okay. I did this.” He could have said something else. He should have said something else to win her over but he doesn’t because he knows no amount of words, of feelings or emotions in them can ever make her look at him the way she looked at Chuck Bass before her eyes landed on him.

“I—I”

He swears that if she says that she’s sorry again, he’ll ram his head into the wall because that’s how much he hates hearing it. “Don’t. Just go.” He doesn’t wait for her to response and steps aside for her to pass; when she doesn’t, “Go, Blair,” repeats Dan, harsher than he’s meant to. “Please. Go.”

Her gaze lingers before she walks off.

He feels a part of him has died again, and he inhales to remind himself that it’s only heartbreak. When he blinks, Serena’s in front of him. “My—Our parents couldn’t make it back in time for the funeral because they were looking for Chuck, and well you know the rest.”

“Can’t say you didn’t warn me,” he tries to joke but it comes out like a sob instead. She then envelopes him into her arms and he doesn’t fight it. Funny how, at this instant, he has an idea about what his second book would be.

He supposes muses are ironic like that.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

  

 _Does anybody know how to hold my heart_  
How to hold my heart?  
'Cause I don't want to let go, let go, let go too soon  


 

 

 

Serena calls twice a day to check in.

Nate calls every other day with some inspiration quotes about not letting life gets him down or how it's better to have loved and lost than not loved at all or some other bullshit (he really wants to punch Nate out, mostly from jealousy, not irritation).

His dad calls once a week to give his love and to constantly remind him that his arms are always opened, whenever he needs.

Jenny calls when Nate doesn’t to apologize for the stupid quotes and that she’s also here if he ever needs a listening ear.

Dan ignores them all after the first week, but he saves them just in case he ever wants to listen. He probably won't, because he doesn’t want any pity; and as much as he loves them, talking doesn’t make it better. It only reminds him of how wrong he was, and how little he matters, so in the end, he does what he thinks is best and erases the messages. He knows that they care; and they know that he’s okay, or will be.

Then he shuts the world out, and goes back to what he does best when his someone breaks his heart; he broods and wallows in his writing. This is his road to healing, his purging process of getting everything out, and ironically, he thinks this might just be his best writing to date. His editor and publisher were over the moon when they received his manuscripts.

The night before he is supposed to do a promotional tour for the book, he sits and stares out of his window with a glass of wine in hand, almost in a celebratory mood; he has to wonder if this is the calm before a storm. Taking a sip, his doorbell rings like clockwork. Scratching his head, he walks over to the door. He peers into the peephole but the visitor has clearly steered clear of it. “Hello?”

“Open the door, Humphrey.”

He almost chokes, and drops to his knees from sheer shock. “Blair?”

Her voice is shrill, demanding and impatient. “I said open the door, Humphrey.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he unlocks and finds her standing outside like how she did on the night of the wake. Only this time, she doesn’t have her back to him or looks nervous at all. In fact, if he could say so, she looks somewhat pissed and altogether disorganized (her hair that she usually styles in a bun or loose curls is frizzier than normal and she looks as if she hasn’t slept in days—don’t get him wrong—she’s still gorgeous but it's an aberration from her normal self).

“What—uh—what are you doing here?” Surprised is the understatement of the year.

Scoffing, she rolls her eyes and saunters into his place like she owns it. “Why, Blair, please come in—” remarks Dan sarcastically as he turns around. “Really Blair—”

“Who the hell do you think you are, Humphrey?” she says, poking his chest with her finger. “How dare you show up at my place like that?”

“Excuse me?”

She flashes him a deadly glare (one that Medusa wishes she has) and crosses her arms. “You left me the morning after, without saying a word of goodbye, then show up unannounced—to which I might add—do you not own a phone or something? The next time you feel spontaneous, pick up the damn phone and make a call or something.”

He backs away and holds up his hand in surrender as she rants. A light bulb suddenly goes off. “Wait—did you just show up here in the middle of the night just to tell me that?”

She pauses; mouth opens, looking bewildered like she hasn’t fully registered the act. “Wha—what?”

His mouth curves into a satisfied grin.

She shoves him roughly. “Wipe that stupid look off your face, Humphrey,” warns Blair. “You know this is your fault.”

He only rolls his eyes in response. “What else is new?”

“This—look at me—This dress is a disaster—” she holds up the cheesy, flowery print, “it’s something only a middle age woman, who wouldn’t know what style is if it hits her in the face, would wear but for some reason, I’m wearing it. I haven’t been eaten well—” She stops to make disgusted face at him “—and no, I’m not bulimic again. I haven’t slept well either. What the hell did you do to me?”

He holds a hand to his chest with feigned innocence. “Why do you automatically assume it’s me? What about your—” He then pauses and swallows hard. “Chuck Bass? It could be him.”

Her lips thin. “Like I didn’t think about that,” she says, and brushes the bangs from her eyes. She looks like a mess, a beautiful mess. "You've bewitched me somehow.”

“Blair, if I could have bewitched you, don't you think I would have done so years ago, instead of now?”

“Yes, you did. Otherwise why would I keep thinking of you?” rants Blair, obviously confused and frustrated. "I don't know how Humphrey but when he kissed me, I craved for your mint toothpaste instead. When I look at him, I see you. Nothing has been the same since.”

He holds a finger to his temple, trying to process everything she’s said, including the fact that she’s indeed here, in his apartment. It’s a fact that be’s still struggling to believe. “What are you trying to say, Blair?”

“That you put some kind of voodoo on me because I can’t stop thinking about you, Humphrey. I don’t know why. I don’t care why. Just take it away.”

She looks like she’s about to cry and he couldn’t help but lets a chuckle escape. Unreasonable, she is. “And how do you propose I do that?” asks Dan, amused. “Take away the voodoo, that is.”

“I don’t know but you have three days,” she says and starts for the door. “If it doesn’t stop, I’m going to skin you alive and you’d wish you had never crossed paths with me, Humphrey.”

He grabs her by the arm (something he has learned from his mistake in the past) and swings her around. “Wait, you can’t just show up to my apartment in the middle of the night, ranting about some useless curse that doesn’t exist whatsoever then just leave.”

“I’m Blair—”

“Yeah, I know. Blair Waldorf. I think the whole planet knows that but you still haven’t answered me,” he then loosens his grip, “what are you doing here?”

“Gee Humphrey, it’s times like these that makes me wonder if there’s an actual brain in that head of yours.” She then rolls her eyes in a dramatic fashion. “It’s like I told you. I need you to remove the curse.”

He chuckles, not at the absurdity of her statement but at the seriousness of her tone. “Oh yeah? And what if I don’t want to remove the curse? What if I want you to keep thinking of me until you lose your mind like how I’m losing my mind thinking of you?”

She blinks innocently. “I don’t see how you’re thinking of me is my problem.”

He laughs.

“And FYI Humphrey,” she says, leaning closer, “if you want to win me over, you’re going have to be quicker on your feet and in your thinking.”

With that she saunters to the door.

He scratches his head once again. “Wait, are you telling me that you want me to chase you? Because I have to tell you, Blair, you’re confusing as hell sometimes.”

“You don't need to understand me to know what I want, Humphrey,” she says; exasperation hinders her voice. “You’re supposed to spend your whole life trying to figure me out.”

“Isn’t it easier just to tell me that you like me too?” he flashes a lopsided grin. “I mean, it's rather obvious.”

“No.” Then she slams the door shut, while he shakes his head and waits momentarily before opening it again.

“Took you long enough,” she says, grinning.

 

 

_\- fin_

 

**Author's Note:**

> An old work that I'm getting around to reposting.   
> The ending of GG wrecked me.


End file.
